TRUE LIES

TRUE LIES

Sometime in 2016, when I was in my 300 level, I was looking for accommodation in school, something I could afford, and my friend took me to his former lodge, which is much closer school. I picked a room and paid for it. I moved in two days after, after making some changes like the painting and wardrobe setting, a task which some of the guys in the lodge came to help me with, though I paid for the painter and the electrician. They also helped me move things from the car to my room after the paint had dried the following day.

I didn’t initially have the inclination for any close friendships with anybody in the lodge; I just felt like leaving it at a greeting stage and moving on. I didn’t know however that most of the other guys found this offensive and often complained to themselves about it. It got to a point that whenever I walked past them, they’d mutter things to themselves I could only assume was derogatory, and then proceed to laugh. I didn’t let this bother me; as long as they weren’t in my face saying whatever it was they had to say, I was fine.

This behaviour went on for awhile, until one day when I was going out to meet a friend. I got out of my room, locked up, and threw a greeting at a cluster of guys who were gathered in a corner, gisting and smoking cannabis.

As I walked past them, one of them called for my attention and started scolding me for not establishing any relationship in the lodge (At this time, I was barely two weeks old in the lodge and was keeping my distance to study whom to relate with and whom not to relate with). As he carried on berating me, I got a bit bewildered and asked him, “Don’t I greet you guys whenever I pass?”

“Even at that,” he snapped. “You should stop behaving like a woman.”

Now, let us call this guy Leke. Upon hearing what he’d just said, I got this “I beg your pardon” expression on my face and asked him to repeat himself. The other guys were laughing at Leke’s jab. But I’d fixed him with a direct gaze and asked, “Enlighten me please, how do men behave?”

He didn’t answer my question, and instead continued fuming. At this time, I was done with him. And I turned to leave, while his friends told him to calm down.

From that day, it was as though I’d officially made an enemy out of this guy I barely even knew. Whenever he saw me up and about in the lodge, he’d start saying things in Yoruba that I just knew were unpleasant remarks directed at me. I also started getting feedback that he liked to call me names like “homo” and “woman wrapper”. I grew to dislike him as much as he clearly disliked me, and the mutual resentment simmered, even though no physical altercation happened between us.

The time came when, for three consecutive days, there was no light in the lodge. This caused me to make use of my generator, and lodge-mates flocked to my room to charge their devices. The first day, Leke gave his roommate, Biodun, his phone to charge for him in my room. After three hours, I turned off the generator and everyone came to pick up their phones. Nobody came from their room, not Leke or Biodun. I waited till it was time for me to go out, and still neither of them came to claim their phones. I decided to go over to the next block where their room is situated, and unfortunately, Leke was the one at home. I told him his roommate had come to charge some phones and that I was about to go out and won’t be coming back anytime soon. I asked him to come take the phones. Somehow I managed this entire monologue in a polite tone of voice.

But the jackass dismissed me, saying I should go ahead and leave, and that I should never come to his room again, no matter what. And then he shut his door in my face.

Feeling a slow burn of anger at this behaviour, I left for my friend’s place and came back late in the night. After a while, Biodun came for the phones, and I narrated to him what transpired between his roommate and I. To this, he laughed and told me to ignore his friend.

The next day, I put on my generator again and like the day before, the lodge-mates all came around to plug in their devices. This time, when I turned the generator off, Biodun came to pick his own phone, leaving Leke’s behind in my room. I waited awhile and when no one came to take his phone, I decided to go out. On my way back home at night, I encountered Leke shouting at his friend never to charge his phone in my room again. Without a word at him, I went into my room, retrieved his phone and handed it over to Biodun. At this point, he stalked over to me and warned me never to lock my phone in his room next time. Thinking about how there would never be a next time, I ignored him and went back into my room, shutting my door in his face.

This was how it kept being between us, one clash after another, sometimes with the barest provocation. It was as though Leke was determined to hate me and I wouldn’t be outdone.

I witnessed two sets of final year parties in my lodge, and I contributed to them. When it got to my set, I was the one in charge of collecting money from the lodge-mates and the one in charge of putting together the party. At this time, I was no longer the aloof new guy. With the passage of time, I’d developed a good relationship with my lodge-mates; even the cult guys and I got along swimmingly. And everyone cooperated in their contributions – everyone except him.

The day I went to collect his money, predictably what was supposed to be a brief interaction derailed into a furious verbal altercation, with him calling me “homo” and saying I deserve to be beaten, that I am of no use to my family, that I am minus one, that in fact I have no future and should be jailed. I gave back as good as I got, daring him to lay a finger on me and then I would show him what those who are called “homo” can do. He snarked back by saying he won’t hit a woman.

Our shouting match quickly drew other lodge-mates to the scene and the peacemakers went to work, trying to restore our frayed tempers. Eventually, he paid his money – which I found surprising, because I thought he’d simply not pay just to spite me. Honestly, at this point, I was ready to have serious issues with the guy; I wanted to have that showdown that had been simmering since I knew him. I wanted him to just go ahead and do his worst. All I’d ever done for the past two years was be myself and live my life calmly. I got along with everybody else but him. And I was sick and tired of this chip he had on his shoulder for me. And it was clear an explosion was going to happen soon.

I did not imagine the explosion would happen the way it did though.

On the day of the party, during morning hours, I kept running into lodge-mates who would jokingly tell me to ensure that there is enough “highness” at the party. I even happened upon Leke, who seemed to be in a good mood, as he came over to speak to me, to tell me to make sure there is “highness” for the guys, as only highness will reconcile the both of us. I didn’t have anything to say to him – merely nodded and walked past.

In the evening, at about 6 pm, the party was underway in the open space of our compound. There was music and dancing, made even fuller of reckless abandon after liquor and palm wine mixed with 501 was passed around. Everyone was loose and having maximum fun.

I was dancing and having some fun too, when Leke came shimmying up to me, his hands coming up to clasp my body. Startled, I pulled away from him and moved away to a different part of the dance floor. I wasn’t about to indulge this recklessness; apart from the fact that I still didn’t like him, I’d heard stories of guys who were homophobic enough to go looking for other guys they suspect are gay and who they can victimize. There’d been too many red lights about Leke in the past for me to simply ignore.

But he wouldn’t let me go. He kept coming at me, telling me how much he wants us to dance. After rejecting him a couple of times, I decided to give him a chance to dance with me. Things quickly got very intense as our bodies generated heat and friction between us, and I began to feel his crotch hardening and bulging. I tried to pull away from him at this point, but he pulled me back, seeming to enjoy the grind of our bodies. After awhile though, he let me go, and the party carried on.

It was late in the night when the party wound to an end. The DJ packed up and left, and everyone retired to their rooms, blissfully tired from the wild night.

I was in my room undressing when I heard a knock on my door. I called out to know who was there and got no response. Through the window, I checked to see who it was – and behold, it was Leke at my door. He saw me and asked me to please let him in. I did. He walked in, turned to lock the door himself, and before I could speak a word, he grabbed me and started kissing me.

I was in shock and recoiled from him. This couldn’t be happening. I asked him if this was what he really wanted or if it was his game plan to out me. He didn’t answer; instead he grabbed me again and continued trying to kiss me. I wouldn’t let him until I’d gotten an answer. I asked my question again, and this time, he growled that I should stop talking and kiss him.

I acquiesced. We began to kiss, furiously attacking each other’s lips and tongues, as though we were eager to explore other functions of our mouths besides using them to spit recriminations at each other. We tumbled into my bed, and continued kissing. The foreplay was intense. It was as though years of misdirected anger were now bubbling over into erotic passion. I was on his dick, sucking the shaft and working his balls as he yanked off his shirt while I pulled down his pants. He went for my nipples, biting at them, and licked my ears, before coming back to reclaim my lips in another round of heated kissing.

We were naked now, the friction of our bare bodies increasing the high. His fingers worked my boy pussy very well, to the point that I was panting for the real thing. And then, he was guiding his dick into my pussy, thrusting into my glory hole like he belonged in there. In fact, the entire sex felt like a predestined orchestra. He fucked me well, establishing a rhythm with me that felt like we had been doing this a long time. Despite the aggression of the sex, it was as though we were making love, like we had this intense feeling for each other that we were exploring. The sex was so mind-blowing that when we were done, the only thing really left for us to do was drop into a heavy slumber, entangled in each other’s arms.

Or rather, he dropped off to sleep soon after the sex – while I stayed awake for awhile, pondering what had just happened. Several emotions were roiling inside me; I felt a sudden loving connection to Leke, and yet I was still confused by the inexplicable turn in our relationship, and also scared of what would happen next. I wondered if he would go about talking about what had happened between us, if he would hate me more and come set me up, or if he would simply ignore me and go back to the status quo.

I turned to observe his face in repose and whispered, “When tomorrow comes, what will you do?”

It was with this troubled mind that I finally surrendered to sleep.

I woke up the next morning to see him dressing up to leave my room. I observed him silently, trying to gauge his mood. He seemed neither furious nor pleased. I guessed perhaps it was too early for him to establish how he wanted to feel about what happened last night. He soon left my room.

As the morning progressed, we encountered each other when I stepped out to buy water, and we exchanged greetings like nothing happened – stiff and polite, like we were still on the page of two people barely talking to each other.

Oh so that’s how we are playing this, I thought, not sure how I felt about this.

But as the days passed, our relationship improved a bit. We became cool, though we didn’t talk much to each other; the hellos however were warmer and frequent. And then the day came, just before I traveled, he saw me and said, “That’s how there’ll be no more charging of phones till you’re back.”

And he walked away.

Written by Tyler

Previous Tweet of the Day: To Be Queer In Our Society
Next #HowIResist Campaign 19

About author

You might also like

Our Stories 90 Comments

A Letter to the Rainbow Brigade Association of Dieticians

Good day. I’ve recently become a frequent peruser of this fun virtual community and I have to say, coming on here has seamlessly weaved into my daily routine. As I’ve

Our Stories 31 Comments

WHIPS

Remember Unoma, who wrote Internet Lover (Read HERE)… Well, she has sent in another piece for our reading delight, an extract from her upcoming memoir, Embracing My Shadow. Check on

Our Stories 12 Comments

TODAY, I SAW FIREBOY DML

Today, I saw Fireboy DML. He had the cutest smile and the most interesting winks I had ever seen. I watched him walk through the backstage, with his security and

17 Comments

  1. pete
    April 10, 06:43 Reply

    How do you sleep with a homophobic dude?

    • Mandy
      April 10, 07:31 Reply

      I doubt there was time to think and make a sound decision in those moments when the guy was coming on so strongly to him.

    • Lorde
      April 12, 18:51 Reply

      With pure hatred and disdain…the ultimate aphrodisiac…??

  2. Rehoboth
    April 10, 06:51 Reply

    This speaks of deeper issues with the writer. Someone was homophobic to you and you dropped your pants for him at the drop of a pin. How has your relationship with him been since then?

  3. Rapum
    April 10, 07:51 Reply

    Would I give myself to a homophobic dude, especially so easily?

    One thing to note: These hyper-masculine homophobic gay/bi guys are so full of a sense of entitlement, see the way he just came on to the guy with such arrogance, as though he knew already that the guy would want him, like the guy has been craving that dick. We enable them by letting them into our pants. At least make him sweat for it, demand a change in behaviour.

  4. Tareth
    April 10, 08:39 Reply

    No matter how hot a idiot is, insofar as I know he’s an idiot,nothing can make me have sex with him.

    Now substitute idiot with internally homophobic and you’ll find my ire rising far higher than it ever does with other individuals.

    How in 7 hells do you fuck an internally homophobic guy? One who’s given you grief for over 2 years? One who obviously doesn’t give a shit about you but only cares about the few minutes of pleasure that he can derive from what’s underneath your pants.

    Letting him have his way with you that night was not just weak but incredibly stupid. All you did was confirm yourself to him as a meat-stick; one he could bloody fuck anytime he wanted and you’d do nothing but acquiesce each time he wants sex yet he’d do absolutely nothing to give you the respect you deserve as a human.

    This, right here, was not good Tyler!

  5. MaLik
    April 10, 11:55 Reply

    Lol. You’re drunk, he’s drunk. You’re horny, he’s horny. The time is right, the place is right. I see nothing abnormal about how things turned out.

    My conscience will slap me if I say I’d have done otherwise.

  6. Black Dynasty
    April 10, 22:32 Reply

    Hmm, i can understand where the author is coming from as I imagine most people have done things in the heat of passion that they ordinarily wouldn’t do.

    However whilst not judging the author, I know I couldnt get turned on by such a person. The guy was probably wrestling with internal homophobia and his perceived hatred was an expression of that despite his attraction to the author.

    Interesting write up nonetheless.

  7. Dimkpa
    April 11, 14:45 Reply

    Nice post. I loved the vivid description of the dance and the sex.
    Good on you for the way you held your own against him all that time and not being intimidated.
    I think we should all be bold enough to call out rabidly homophobic guys for the homosexuals they are as studies have shown. Let them know that their behaviour, rather than providing cover for them, is actually a known characteristic of IH gay men.
    I think despite the altercations there was some sexual tension between you guys which culminated in the intense sex you guys had. I may be wrong but I’m glad you got some finally… 🙂

  8. Canis VY Majoris
    April 11, 16:59 Reply

    There are blurred lines between hate and lust.

    This is a beautiful story, worth telling 1000 times.

    Leke is brave. He didn’t seek permission, he risked rejections. Something most of us can’t do.

  9. ROCK
    April 12, 16:57 Reply

    Did this really happen?

  10. Bibi
    April 13, 08:57 Reply

    This happened to me in uni … this guy always making comments and stuff .. even poured me water once claimed it was an accident … i was friends with his friends … they kept saying how he wouldnt shut up about me .. always talking about me …. long story short ..about 6 months ino the hate we had sex … got into a relationship … broke up … kept having sex … we r friends now … life is wierd

  11. GT
    October 07, 11:23 Reply

    I totally understand the writer’s angle. I was in a similar shit back then in school. I moved into a new lodge that ruggedity was status quo and I didn’t have time to fantasies with any dude untill when things got to cloud 9…….

  12. bamidele
    April 14, 11:49 Reply

    I had thought thought that things would eventually change right from the beginning of the story. In fact it has been argued severally that heteronormative and homophobic behaviours usually arise in people who feel insecure. Many of these proclaimed homophobi will fuck anything behind closed doors.

Leave a Reply